


i can love you desperately (though your love ain't guaranteed)

by bilexualclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Canon Bisexual Character, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Pansexual Character, Revenge Sex, They're all in the LGBTQ club because everyone is gay, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, and finally some bellamy/clarke/raven/roan sex, because that's how i roll, chapters 1-4 are basically just slow burn bellarke, the orgy is just in added bonus in chapter 5, then bellamy/clarke sex, trans!Jasper, we get some clarke/roan sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilexualclarke/pseuds/bilexualclarke
Summary: “Do you think I’m more like Tina or Linda?” Clarke asks once the episode starts, chomping down on her peppermint stick.“Neither,” Bellamy says. “You’re Louise.”She chokes on a mouthful of hot chocolate, sputtering before her throat clears and she can laugh properly. “Really?”“Yes! You’re sneaky and conniving and your mind is way darker than your cute exterior suggests.”or, the college au // bellarke + ice mechanic orgy that someone actually asked for





	1. Chapter 1

The deepest and sincerest thank you goes out to [@missemarissa](missemarissa.tumblr.com), who is a fantastic beta and an even better friend.

* * *

Arkadia University’s LGBTQ club meets bi-monthly (pun intended) in Room 319 of Skai Hall. It is Clarke Griffin’s third and final year as President, and it is her goal to make the club as big as possible. Under her leadership, it has grown from a measly eight members to nearly twenty, and they have sponsored some of the most successful events on campus.

 

“Welcome back, everyone!” Clarke says as the group files into the empty classroom for their first meeting of the semester. “I hope you all had a great winter break, and I am thrilled to see some new faces! For those of you who don’t know, my name is Clarke Griffin, and I’m the President of Ark U’s branch of the LGBTQ club. We are a safe space for everyone, regardless of gender and sexual orientation.”

 

Once everyone is settled, Monty Green, the club’s Vice President, starts handing out flyers.

 

“These are the flyers for the ‘Welcome Back Mixer’ that a different club hosts at the beginning of each semester. It’s our turn this semester, and I want to up the mixer game.”

 

“We plan to use this opportunity to both gain exposure for our club and act as a fundraiser,” Monty explains, handing out the last sheet and going to stand next to Clarke at the front of the room. “How do you guys feel about a field trip?”

 

“Depends on where,” John Murphy pipes up from the back of the room. Nathan Miller, Monty’s boyfriend, leans over and swipes the other man’s feet from where they are propped up on an empty desk.

 

“Have some respect, dude.”

 

Murphy sticks his tongue out and returns his attention to Monty, leaning forward and resting his elbows where his feet used to reside.

 

“Where are we going? Please say Six Flags America.”

 

Monty rolls his eyes. “No. Now, our plans are tentative, and they ultimately need to be voted on by you and approved by the dean, but here’s the idea: a trip to Stonewall Inn.”

 

The room breaks out into excited murmurs. Arkadia University is located just outside of Washington D.C., making a trip to New York City quite feasible. It is a journey that, depending on their method of transportation and how much traffic they meet, can take anywhere from three to five hours. Clarke has done the calculations, and she’s confident they can make quite the day trip out of it.

 

The door opens, causing the chatter to come to a halt. Bellamy Blake slips in, giving the room a sheepish wave. He sidles up to Clarke’s right side, bending slightly to whisper something in her ear. She listens intently for a second before her face splits into a massive grin.

 

“Okay everyone, we have great news sooner than expected!” Clarke looks up at Bellamy fondly, resting her hand on the middle of his back and gently nudging him forward. “This is our Secretary and Treasurer, Bellamy Blake.”

 

“Are they fucking yet?” Murphy murmurs to Miller, who shakes his head sadly. Murphy rolls his eyes and slouches back in his seat. “Unbelievable.”

 

Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin were known throughout the campus for their chemistry alone. They grew up in neighboring towns in Virginia, their schools were rivals in practically every way. The pair met at a debate freshman year, and their screaming match nearly had them both disqualified. They continued their argumentative streak until graduation, and then they both found themselves wandering, lost and confused, around the Ark U campus in the fall. As easy as it was for them to become rivals, it was for them to become best friends.

 

Best friends with disgustingly overwhelming amounts of sexual tension, that is.

 

“Hey guys, welcome back,” Bellamy says, fixing the group with an easy smile. “I just came from a meeting with the dean, and she approved our budget for the whole semester, which is fucking fantastic. That means the only fundraising we’ll have to do is for the field trip that I trust Clarke already told you about.”

 

“Can we do a bake sale?” Jasper pipes up. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

 

“Not if your only plan is to make pot brownies.”

 

Jasper opens his mouth again.

 

“ _Or_ cookies,” Bellamy says, cutting him off with a glare. “Not that they wouldn’t sell like crazy, to be honest, but if word gets out this club would be shut down immediately.”

 

“So, the focus of this meeting is to work on plans for the mixer and brainstorm some ideas for the fundraiser,” Clarke continues, addressing the group. “Ideally we’d be able to incorporate the fundraiser into the mixer, but we should be able to host independent fundraising events as well. Bake sales with _appropriate_ items will be considered.”

 

The next half hour of the meeting consists of various members shouting out suggestions while Clarke and Bellamy weed out the better ones and Monty scrambles to write them all down. In the end, they come to the unanimous decision that Harper’s idea of an auction during the dance was the best.

 

“Do you really think people are going to participate?” Bellamy asks Clarke as they’re walking home from the meeting. They both have houses on campus, right next door to each other.

 

“They idea of selling people to the highest bidder is initially unappealing,” Clarke says with a shrug, “but if the ones being auctioned off are willing, it shouldn’t be that bad. All the buyers are getting is a date for the evening. It’s not like we’re starting a human trafficking ring.”

 

“Fair enough,” Bellamy says with a light laugh. They are just now approaching their respective houses, and he nods towards his. “Want to come up? I just got some more of those Junior Mint K-cups you like.”

 

Clarke is already turning and walking towards his front stoop before he finishes the sentence. He can’t hide his smile as she skips the second step and does what he assumes is her version of a jig on the porch.

 

“Let’s go, I’m _freezing_ ,” she teases as he takes his time fishing his keys from his pocket. It’s the end of January, and a light dusting of snow is just starting to fall. The flakes cling to the blonde curls spilling out from beneath Clarke’s dark green beanie, and Bellamy can make out one or two who have found a home on the end of her eyelashes.

 

He gets the door open, and she bounds inside, kicking off her boots and heading straight for the couch. The house is shared by him and three others: Miller, Murphy, and this guy named Dax who Bellamy swears is plotting to kill them all. He isn’t sure where the others are, having lost track of Miller and Murphy after the meeting, but sine Clarke is currently cocooning herself in his favorite blanket, he can’t quite seem to care.

 

“Find something good to watch, will you?” he tells her, heading to the kitchen to prepare Miller’s Keurig.

 

“Do you have any peppermint sticks?” she calls back to him, just as his hand is closing around the box. He chuckles to himself.

 

“So needy.”

 

Once the drinks are ready, he brings them into the living room, a peppermint stick peeking out of the top of each one. Clarke squeals in delight and grabs her mug from his hand. He glances at the television, seeing that she has already pulled up an episode of _Bob’s Burgers_.

 

“Do you think I’m more like Tina or Linda?” Clarke asks once the episode starts, chomping down on her peppermint stick.

 

“Neither,” Bellamy says. “You’re Louise.”

 

She chokes on a mouthful of hot chocolate, sputtering before her throat clears and she can laugh properly. “Really?”

 

“Yes! You’re sneaky and conniving and your mind is way darker than your cute exterior suggests.”

 

“You think I have a cute exterior?” Clarke winks.

 

Bellamy flushes and rolls his eyes. “You think you don’t?”

 

“I think I’m a little bit like Tina, too.”

 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

 

She extends her leg, pointing her toe to nudge at his thigh. “I think you have a cute _posterior_.”

 

Bellamy throws his head back, his whole body shaking as he laughs. A bit of hot chocolate spills over the lip of the cup and dribbles down his hand, but he doesn’t care. Clarke watches him with an ear-splitting grin; it’s rare that he ever laughs like this, so freely and full of unrestrained joy, and the fact that she is the cause of it nearly gives her a high.

 

A few episodes later, when their stomachs hurt from laughing and too much sweets, she stands up and stretches.

 

“I’m going to head home now. See you tomorrow?”

 

“Tomorrow,” Bellamy agrees, extending his arms so Clarke can lean down and hug him. She puts her coat and hat back on before slipping out the door. He lays on the couch for a few more minutes before hauling himself to his feet. Trudging up the stairs, he comes face-to-face with Dax on the second-floor landing.

 

“Your girlfriend still here?”

 

“No.” He stopped trying to convince people that Clarke isn’t his girlfriend a year ago.

 

“Finally. I’m taking the couch tonight; my room smells weird.” Dax shoves past him and jogs down the stairs.

 

“So fucking strange,” Bellamy mumbles to himself as he enters his room. His eyes automatically drift to the window on the left side of his room. It’s the one that face’s Clarke’s bedroom, something that happened completely by chance but leaves them looking like Taylor Swift and the Attractive Extra from the “You Belong With Me” music video.

 

Clarke’s light is still on, but her shades are drawn. He busies himself with getting ready for bed, slipping into pajamas and setting his alarm for the next morning. His phone vibrates from its place on the nightstand, and he swipes at the screen.

 

_From: Clarke_

_10:49 p.m._

_Goodnight!_

 

He glances up, out of his window. Clarke has pulled her shades back and is peering out at him. When he catches her eye, she grins and waves. He does the same, and then her head disappears and the light in her room goes out.

 

_To: Clarke_

_10:50 p.m._

_Goodnight, princess._

* * *

Clarke meets Raven in the lobby of Skai Hall the following Sunday afternoon. Her best friend is carrying a large cardboard box, and when Clarke takes it from her she stumbles under the weight.

 

“Jesus, Rae, this is like two tons.” Clarke wheezes, stumbling to the nearest bench and letting it drop with a thud.

 

Raven scoffs. “I made it all the way across campus with a bum leg carrying that thing. You need to stop skipping arm day.”

 

“Arm day, leg day, ab day,” Clarke says lightly, opening the box, “I skip them all.”

 

The box contains freshly-printed posters for the mixer. Clarke had designed them and Monty got his buddies from the Technology Center to give them a discount on the printer. Both manned with a stapler, each girl takes a stack of posters and work on plastering the paper on the various bulletin boards down the hall.

 

Raven is just about done with her stack when she feels a presence over her shoulder.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

She turns, and is faced with a tall man who she can only describe as ‘stoic’. His eyes are a piercing blue, infused with some green undertones, and the soft beauty of them is a stark contrast to ruggedness of the rest of him. His light brown hair falls to about his chin, but is half pulled up into a tight bun, and his expression is a mix of haughty indifference and intense focus. From his gaze alone, she gets the feeling that she should be privileged to have his attention.

 

“Can I help you?” she asks, trying not to sound too rude but not interesting in sounding polite either.

 

“Roan Kinglsey,” he says, extending a hand to her. Raven sends a sidelong glance towards Clarke, who is watching them from down the hall.

 

“Okay,” she says, grabbing his hand tightly and shaking it twice. “Can I help you, _Roan Kingsley_?”

 

“I have a question about the mixer.”

 

Raven eyes him curiously. “It’s next Friday, from eight to midnight in the east gymnasium. All the information is on the flyer.”

 

“Do you have to be in the club to attend?” he asks, unfazed by her attitude.

 

“That would be an awfully small mixer,” Raven says drily, “so, no. We’re just running it.”

 

“And this auction…who will be a part of it?” Roan crosses his arms in front of his chest, and Raven absolutely does not pay attention to the fabric of his shirt straining over his bulging muscles.

 

“Like I said, all the information is _right here of the flyer_ ,” she repeats. “Members of the LGBTQ club and some others have volunteered themselves to be auctioned off as dates for the evening. The proceeds will go towards funding the club’s field trip at the end of the semester.”

 

Roan Kingsley’s lips twist up in what Raven assumes is meant to be a smile, but it looks more like he’s baring his teeth.

 

“I have one final question, and then I will rid you of my burdensome presence.”

 

Raven rolls her eyes. “What?”

 

“Will I see you there?”

 

He says it casually, like they’re friends who are discussing group plans and not complete strangers. She knows that it’s an attempt to be suave, and it probably would have worked, had she been anyone else.

 

“Oh, I’ll be there,” Raven says, looking him dead in the eye. “But I doubt you’ll see me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks again to [missemarissa](missemarissa.tumblr.com) for her help with this chapter. I <3 U, girl. 

* * *

 

The club is supposed to arrive at the gymnasium an hour early to set up, so naturally Bellamy and Clarke arrive at six to get a head start. They get to work on setting up the balloon display at the entrance, which are small clusters arranged in a semi-circle, each representing the colors of different sexualities.

 

“So, do you think cereal is soup?”

 

Bellamy stops tying the balloon string around the weight and sighs. “Why are you so concerned with these weird food questions?” Last week she had asked him if hot dogs were sandwiches.

 

“It’s just a talking point. I know you have an opinion.”

 

“You’re damn right I have an opinion,” Bellamy grumbles. Clarke bites back a grin. “I suppose if you categorize soup as solids floating in a liquid, then yes. But by that logic, a pool full of people is also soup. The ocean is soup.”

 

“Fair enough,” Clarke says in fake-seriousness. “I suggest we refer to cereal as ‘breakfast soup’ from now on.”

 

This gets a chuckle out of him. Bellamy grabs another balloon and starts attaching the string to the weight. “Well, what about oatmeal, then? What is that?”

 

Clarke smiles brightly, one of her trademark innocent smiles that Bellamy knows means that she has you right where she wants you. “Breakfast chowder.”

 

He stares blankly at her for a moment. “You know, Clarke,” he says fondly, after a moment of silence, “you are really something else.”

 

The rest of the club shows up on time, and they finish setting up just a few minutes before eight. The snack and beverage tables are stocked, the balloons are properly arranged, and Monty is putting the finishing touches on the DJ booth, which will be manned by his best friend, Jasper Jordan.

 

“What time does the auction start again?” Jasper asks, fiddling with the microphone.

 

“Nine,” Clarke answers, flipping on the switch to turn on the disco ball.

 

“Raven isn’t being auctioned, is she?”

 

“No, I am not,” she answers herself, striding into the gym. “It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you to watch everyone fight over me.”

 

“Ha-ha,” Jasper says sarcastically, sticking his tongue out at her. “We need your help. The mic isn’t working and this auction will be really lame if we’re just shouting people’s introductions.”

 

“Hand it over.” Raven slides behind the booth and starts tinkering with the microphone.

 

Jasper relinquishes his position and moves to the snack table, picking at the bowl of pretzels as attendees start to filter into the gym. Raven cries out triumphantly before the room is filled with the echoes of her voice.

 

“Suck it, bitches!”

 

Clarke grabs Jasper’s hand before it can dig into the pretzel bowl again. “Jas, do you have the list of auctionees?”

 

“Back left pocket,” he mumbles through a mouthful, shaking his butt with a wink. She rolls her eyes and fishes it out.

 

_LGBTQ Club Welcome Back Mixer Auction_

_Girls:_

_Lexa Woods_

_Fox O’Hara_

_Maya Vie_

_Harper McIntyre_

_Clarke Griffin_

_Boys:_

_Nathan Miller_

_John Murphy_

_Bellamy Blake_

_Lincoln Meadows_

_Nyko Tiberius_

 

It isn’t a big list, but it’s better than she expected. Everyone on the list is attractive and a good person, so she doesn’t think it will be too hard to find people willing to “buy” their company.

 

“Okay, great. They’re all supposed to check in with me by eighty forty-five. You’re the MC, which means _so do you_.” Clarke eyes him pointedly. “You can get high afterwards.”

 

“Yes, Boss.” Jasper salutes and turns back to the snacks.

 

“Hey, Clarke.” Bellamy appears at her side, resting a hand on the small of her back. “We have a situation.”

 

The situation turns out to be Octavia Blake, Bellamy’s little sister. She is a junior in high school, and she lives with their grandmother almost an hour away.

 

Only now, she’s standing in the middle of the gym.

 

“Hey, Clarke!” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly when her and Bellamy approach. “This looks great. Are you going to be in the auction, too?”

 

Bellamy grabs her by the elbow and drags her off the dance floor. “ _What the hell, O_?”

 

“Octavia, how did you get here?” Clarke says, not as aggressively.

 

“I got an Uber,” she says, shrugging. Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face.

 

“O, how much did that cost? Does Gram know where you are? You’re not allowed to be here. If you get caught-”

 

“ _Relax_ , big brother,” Octavia says. She rolls her eyes and flips her long dark hair over her shoulder. “I have plenty of money saved from babysitting, Gram knows I came to visit you, and I’m _not_ going to get caught.”

 

Bellamy scoffs. “Right. And what are you going to say when someone inevitably asks who you are? Or what your major is?”

 

Octavia leans in conspiringly. “ _Lie_.”

 

Clarke suppresses a laugh as Octavia pats her brother’s arm and skips back onto the dance floor. Bellamy watches with a glare, his jaw clenched tight.

 

“I mean, I’m happy to see her,” he relents after a moment, “but Christ, she can never do anything by the book, can she?”

 

“I’ll assign Monty look-out duty,” Clarke tells him, knocking him with her hip. “She’ll be fine.”

 

The only trouble Octavia really gets into is during the auction, when she bids on _and wins_ Lincoln Meadows, a senior from Clarke’s sculpture class. Clarke bites her lip as she watches from the side of the mini-stage they had erected to the side of the DJ booth. Bellamy, who is the last man to be bid on, is nearly red in the face as he watches his sister call out her bids on the _very much older_ man.

 

Miller and Murphy are both “bought” by their significant others, Monty and Emori, and Lincoln’s friend Nyko was won by a grad student named Indra. As much as Clarke wanted to bid on Bellamy, she let Raven take the reins on this one. The latter had been waging a mini prank war with Bellamy since sophomore year, and she wanted to take this opportunity to use him as a personal servant for the evening.

 

The girls’ auction turns into a bit of a joke when Jasper, who is moderating the bids, gets into an actual bidding war over Maya. Monty steps in before things get too violent, but Clarke already knows no one is going to let Jasper live it down for a while. Lexa, who Clarke met in her Intro to PolySci class freshman year, is won by her crush, a Haitian transfer student named Costia. Fox is won by some guy named Sterling, and Harper’s long-distance girlfriend Monroe makes a surprise appearance and outbids everyone.

 

In all honesty, Clarke is expecting Bellamy to bid on her. She knows it isn’t a _romantic_ thing, it’s just what they do. Which is why she is so surprised when, as Bellamy is going back and forth with Raven, each of them going up by dollar increments, she hears another low, gravelly voice.

 

“Five hundred dollars.”

 

The gym is silent. The most anyone else had gone up to was Lexa $102, and for a bunch of broke college kids, even that was quite the surprise. Clarke peers into the crowd, trying to see where the voice came from. She makes eye contact with Bellamy, who arches his eyebrows and shrugs.

 

“F-five hundred? Do I hear five hundred and one?” Jasper tries. Bellamy gives Clarke a small shake of the head, apologetic.

 

“Five hundred dollars, sold! To the guy with the man bun who looks way too old to be in college!”

 

This gets a few laughs, and the girls slowly make their way off the stage and the bidders go over to the table by the wall where one of the club members, Bryan, is manning the donation cup and keeping track of the auction results.

 

Bellamy meets Clarke halfway.

 

“Hey. Sorry I couldn’t-”

 

“Bellamy, it’s fine.” Clarke squeezes his hand. “I’m not selling my soul away, remember?”

 

“Yeah, but,” Bellamy shifts, his eyes wander to the table. “I don’t like the look of this guy.”

 

She follows his gaze, settling on a large man wearing a light blue button down and grey slacks. Jasper was right; he did look way too old to be here. But, as Clarke studies him, she realizes he also looks familiar.

 

“I’ll be fine,” she tells Bellamy. “Have fun with Raven. She probably has a costume ready for you.”

 

He grunts, attempting a smile. “If it’s not a French maid’s outfit I will be severely disappointed.”

 

She laughs, giving his hand one last squeeze before walking away. The regular dance music starts up again, and she notices the guy who bid on her tapping his foot as he hands a check over to Bryan.

“I know you,” Clarke says as she approaches him. He turns.  “You were the one who was weirdly trying to flirt with my friend the other day.”

 

He smirks, extending a hand. “Roan Kingsley. And was it that weird?”

 

“Probably more so than you thought,” she says as she shakes his hand. “So. I’m all yours for the rest of the night, Roan Kingsley.”

 

“Care to dance, Clarke Griffin?”

 

The music playing isn’t exactly slow-dance music- it’s a remixed version of some upbeat Florence + The Machine song- so they just kind of bounce around each other awkwardly until Roan rolls his eyes and pulls her close.

 

“Relax, Clarke,” he says at her alarmed expression. “I’m not interested in moving around like a middle schooler when I actually know _how_ to dance.” He fixes one hand on her waist and takes her hand in the other. “Follow my lead.”

 

To her surprise, Roan actually is a good dancer, if not a bit too formal. As he spins her around, she catches sight of Bellamy, loitering next to Raven at the DJ Booth with a sour expression she knows has nothing to do with his indentured servitude.

 

“I apologize for outbidding your boyfriend,” Roan says, calling her attention back to him. “But I wanted to speak with you tonight.”

 

“He isn’t my boyfriend, and you would have been free to do that even if you hadn’t bid on me,” Clarke says primly, “and I think you know that. So why did you?”

 

“I started my undergraduate degree here a few years back. Unfortunately, I had to put my studies on hold for a few years to take of my mother’s business after she passed. I am just returning now, and I was quite pleased to see that there is finally a safe space for LGBTQ individuals on campus. There wasn’t one when I first attended school here, and I always wished that there was.”

 

Clarke stares at him, stunned. He twirls her around and then dips her so low she feels her hair drag along the floor.

 

“That doesn’t explain why you bid on me, _though_. And why you bid so much.”

 

Roan shrugs. “The amount? Because I can, and it’s for a good cause. I bid on you specifically because you’re the president of the club and I wanted to make my case.”

 

“Your case?” Clarke plants her feet to stop them from spinning. “Roan, we’re a queer club on a college campus, not an underground mafia. I truly do appreciate the donation to our cause, but you don’t have to buy me to get an audience. Just come to our next meeting, for fuck’s sake.”

 

 Roan eyes her for a moment before shocking her with a throaty chuckle. He releases her, taking a step back. “You’re right, Clarke. I apologize; I have spent too much time with the wrong people.”

 

“So it would seem,” Clarke replies drily. “We meet next Thursday. I hope to see you there.”

 

“You will.” Roan dips forward.

_Is he fucking bowing?_ Clarke thinks in disbelief. _Who is this guy?_

 

“I won’t monopolize your time any longer, which I’m sure your _not-boyfriend_ will be happy about. If you’ll excuse me, I have to see about a beautiful brunette by the sound booth.”

 

With that, he takes his leave, moving easily through the throngs of gyrating dancers. Clarke stands still for a moment, replaying that bizarre conversation in her head. She catches sight of Octavia, who is talking animatedly to Lincoln who is looking down at her with a bemused smile.

 

“So, I’m alive,” she announces when she catches up with Bellamy. He is at the snack table, stocking up on cheese and crackers when she appears at his side. To her credit, he _almost_ jumps, but maintains his cool.

 

“Thank God. I thought he was going to brood you to death.”

 

“Excuse you,” she says, affronted. “Brooding is your specialty, sir. Roan is just seems like he is constantly expecting a gross lack of incompetence.”

 

“ _Roan_.” Bellamy says, mockingly. “Of course he has a hot name.”

 

“I’m pretty sure he is somehow affiliated with the mob,” Clarke says thoughtfully, stealing a cracker. “I invited him to our next meeting. He mentioned being excited about there being a club in the first place, which is why he bid so much. His enthusiasm makes me think he’s queer, and given his apparent fascination with Raven, my guess is bi or pan.”

 

“You know what they say about assuming…” Bellamy teases. Clarke jabs a finger into his ribs. “Ow! Anyway, I don’t think he’ll have much luck with Raven. She sent me to restock her snacks when she saw him coming over, and she looked like she was preparing for battle.”

 

“He was talking to her when we were hanging up flyers the other day. She talked about how annoying he was for half an hour afterwards, so I think she’s planning to either kill him or fuck him.”

 

Clarke pauses, and then they both say in unison:

 

“Or both.”

 

Snickering, they glance over at the DJ booth just in time to see Raven rip off her refurbished Beats headphones and yell something at Roan, who is standing there impassively with his arms crossed.

 

“What do you think she’s saying?” Clarke murmurs.

 

Bellamy squints. “I’m trying to read her lips…I see ‘orange juice’… ‘asshole’, I’m sorry, ‘ _fucking_ asshole’, and…‘tricycle’.”

 

Clarke nods soundly. “Sounds about right.”

 

* * *

 

The dance winds down at midnight, but Bellamy has Octavia in an Uber home fifteen minutes before. She leaves with Lincoln’s phone number programmed into her phone, and when Bellamy confronts the man after, he assures him that he has the purest of intentions.

 

“Your sister is a lovely girl, Bellamy,” Lincoln tells him, “but she is very young. I’d like to be her friend, but I have no intentions to pursue anything more than that, especially right now. I’m not that guy.”

 

“ _Told you_ ,” Clarke says when Lincoln leaves. “You had nothing to worry about.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bellamy says as they start their clean-up. “Clarke knows best.”

 

She pops a red balloon and quickly sucks in a breath full of helium. When she speaks, she sounds like the Munchkins from _The Wizard of Oz_.

 

“You bet I do!”

 

That, of course, spirals into a rap battle conducted entirely in helium voices. Clarke throws it down with her go-to song, “Anaconda”, but Bellamy surprises her with his own rendition of “My Humps” that leaves both of them in stitches.

 

“My mom never let me do this when I was a kid,” Clarke says, lying flat on her back on the gym floor. “She was scared that the helium would create air bubbles in my brain or something.”

 

“I mean, it is definitely bad for you. She had a point,” Bellamy responds from next to her. He pops a balloon and lets it fly out of his hand, swirling around the gym before collapsing sadly a few feet away. “But still, she could have let you have a little fun.”

 

Clarke sighs, rolling over onto her side to face him. “She was never big on ‘fun’.”

 

“So that’s where you get it.”

 

Gasping, she lifts her leg to kick him, but he catches it, ripping off her shoe and tickling her heel. Clarke screams, arching away from him as he digs into her most ticklish spot.

 

“Bellamy! Bellamy, stop! Please, stop!” she cries out through her laughs. He lets up and she rolls away from him, still laughing.

 

He loves it when she gets like this, when it gets late and she passes the point of Tired and goes straight to Delirious. It’s at this point that she comes down with random giggle fits, and will laugh at anything from a crack in the sidewalk to his choice of socks.

 

“Alright, come on,” he says, bringing himself to his feet and looking down at her with a fond smile. “Let’s finish this up before you laugh yourself into a coma.”

 

Still giggling, she lets him pull her to their feet and together they clean up the rest of the gym until there is no sign of there ever being any sort of festivities at all.

It’s a little after two in the morning by the time Clarke collapses into bed. She closes her eyes and snuggles under her covers, waiting for sleep to overtake her. She had nearly passed out on the walk home. But it doesn’t. She lays there for a few minutes before rolling onto her back with a sigh.

 

Her fingers drift under the waistband of her flannel pajama pants on their own accord. The move over the curls of her pubic hair and rest on her clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive nub. It’s a normal part of her nighttime routine, whether it be to help her fall asleep or to satiate her desire. Clarke lets out a contented moan when they glide lower, gathering the wetness that has accumulated at her center and dragging it up over her slit.

 

There is a small book on the self across the room whose spine reads “Dictionary”, but instead of pages on the opposite side, there is a combination lock. Inside the book-safe, there is just enough room for Clarke to store a pink silicone vibrator, perfect for both clitoral and G-spot stimulation. Before she gets too far along to stop, she rolls out of bed and grabs the fake book, unlocking the safe and grabbing her toy.

 

Setting it next to her on the sheets, Clarke resumes her task. She kicks her pajama pants down her legs to pool around her ankles, planting her feet on the mattress. Her left hand is between her legs, her fingers deftly massaging her clit, while her right has made its way beneath her shirt, tweaking at her nipples.

 

It’s times like this where she normally grabs her phone, switches to private browsing, and pulls up some porn. But tonight, she doesn’t need someone else to fill in the empty spots in her fantasy. She can already feel the warm, rough hands spreading her thighs apart, and the hot breath against her neck.

 

Clarke grabs her vibrator and switches it on the lowest setting, dragging it over her slit while her fingers rub harder circles over her clit. Once she can feel her wetness thoroughly coating the vibrating head, she slips the tip inside of her.

 

“ _Oh, Bell_ ,” she moans, spreading her legs wider and pushing the toy in further. The tip drags against her G-spot, the vibrations making her thighs shake with how fucking great it feels. As she fucks herself with her toy, she imagines that it’s Bellamy, pinning her to the mattress and giving it to her the way she needs, the way she knows he would.

 

When she comes, it’s with her toy deep inside her, her fingers tripping over her clit, and Bellamy’s face flashing before her eyes.

 

Later, after going to the bathroom to clean up and wash her toy, she sits on the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. Getting off to visions of her best friend has been an increasingly common occurrence as of late, and she’s starting to get the sneaking suspicion that it isn’t just because of how ridiculously attractive he is.

 

Clarke collapses backwards, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“I am so fucked,” she sighs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a little taste of smut here, and next chapter gets even heavier. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far!
> 
> Let's talk about season 4 on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to[@missemarissa](missemarissa.tumblr.com) for all her help with this chapter.**

* * *

Roan makes good on his promise and shows up at the next meeting.

 

“Just sit wherever. We’ll get started in a minute, once I get my papers in order,” Clarke tells him when she sees him enter the room.

 

Nodding, Roan takes a seat in the empty chair next to the boy he recognizes from the mixer as Jasper, and the latter immediately turns to him with a goofy smile.

 

“Jasper Jordan,” he says, extending his hand. “What are you in for?”

 

“In for?” Roan asks, reluctantly shaking his hand.

 

“You know, how do you identify? Clarke says I shouldn’t ask people straight away- pun intended- because it’s rude but I figure that asking is better than assuming, right?”

 

“I identify as pansexual,” Roan says stoically. Jasper, immune to the man’s lack of expression, barrels on.

 

“Really? So does Bellamy! And Emori, that girl with the face tat. She’s dating Murphy. He’s ace.” He continues to point out each member of the club. “Clarke’s bi, and so is Raven, Harper, Monty, and…who else am I forgetting? Oh, right! Roma. Miller and Bryan are gay, and they used to date, but they broke up two years ago and now Miller and Monty are together.  The girl by the door who looks like she could rip your throat out, Echo, is gay, too, and so is that girl with the insane eyeshadow, Lexa.”

 

“And what about you?” Roan says, figuring he’ll take the bait. Jasper beams.

 

“I’m trans. I’m into ladies, and this lovely one right here is my girlfriend.” He swings an arm around the mousy girl with thick eyebrows and dark hair. She smiles cautiously at Roan.

 

“Hi, I’m Maya Vie.”

 

“Roan Kinglsey,” he says, reaching across Jasper to shake her hand gently.

 

“Maya’s straight, but she’s here both for moral support and because she’s a great ally.”

 

Maya rolls her eyes, blushing slightly. “He only says that because I don’t like the term ‘ally’. I feel like today, you either are a decent person who support LGBTQ rights or you’re an asshole.”

 

“Fair enough,” Roan says, allowing a small smirk. At this point, Clarke clears her throat, and they turn their attention back to her.

 

“I have some great news, everyone!”

 

There is still some residual chatter, and so Bellamy steps forward, crossing his arms.

 

“Are you done?” he says gruffly, eyeing Echo, who was whispering something to Lexa. The girls roll their eyes, but stop talking.

 

“As I was saying,” Clarke continues, “the good news is: the auction was a success! We raised enough money for the Stonewall trip!”

 

There is the expected cheers and applause, in which Clarke joins. Bellamy claps his hands with a small smile gracing his lips, but his eyes are trained on Clarke.

 

Roan waits for the excitement to settle down before clearing his throat and raising his hand.

 

“Yes! Roan. Everyone, this is Roan Kingsley,” Clarke says, pointing him out to the group. “Did you have something to add?”

 

“Is the plan _just_ to visit Stonewall?”

 

Bellamy frowns at his tone. “No one is forcing you to go.”

 

Roan raises both hands in a placating manner. “No offense intended; I think it’s a great idea and a spot I’ve always wanted to visit. What I should have asked was, are you interested in doing _more_?”

 

“Our tentative plan was to just do some sight-seeing,” Clarke explains, unsure where he’s going with this. “Walking around Central Park, seeing Times Square, taking a group picture of all of us flipping off Trump Tower, maybe doing some shopping…”

 

“What if I told you I could get us tickets to see _Hamilton_?”

 

Suddenly, you could hear a pin drop.

 

“Dude…” Jasper whispers, awe-struck. “Are you for real?”

 

Roan shrugs. “There are some people in high places who owe me a few favors. I don’t see it being a problem.”

 

“Those tickets cost an arm and a leg.” Bellamy won’t let himself be swayed by the idea of seeing the musical him and Clarke had been singing nonstop for months. “The fundraising for that would be insane.”

 

Raven pipes up. “For _Hamilton_? I think it would be worth it.”

 

Roan looks at her, a hint of shock quickly flitting across his stoic features. “A discounted price can certainly be negotiated.”

 

“All in favor of a new _Hamilton_ fundraiser?” Miller calls out.

 

“ _Aye_!”

 

“Hold on, hold on,” Clarke says, trying to calm the excited masses. “We’ll need to work out the specifics before we can make any big decisions. Let’s put a pin in it until the next meeting, alright?”

 

A resigned sigh leaves the group, but they agree. Roan gives Clarke his phone number at the end of the meeting so they can talk logistics. She is shooting him a text so he can save her number as her and Bellamy walk to their only shared class this semester. (He wants to be a social worker and her an art therapist, and so a random Psychology class is the only overlapping requirement they both share.)

 

“Do you think this has a shot of working out?” Bellamy asks dubiously as she sends her text. “I don’t want to get everyone’s hopes up for nothing.”

 

Clarke links her arm around his, pocketing her phone. “I have a good feeling about this, Bell.”

 

“Really? Well, I’m sold. I’m going to marry him.”

 

She scoffs, digging her elbow into his ribs. “Asshole.”

 

“What? I might. He’s my type,” Bellamy says, smirking down at her.

 

“Don’t act like you’re not holding out for Jason Momoa.”

 

“You’re right,” he sighs dramatically, turning his eyes to the sky. “Whenever you’re ready, Jason.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes fondly. “Drama queen.”

 

* * *

Giving Roan her number turns into a stream of nonstop text messages about tickets and train schedules and bus tickets and _is Raven more of a flower or a plant person?_

 

(When a mysterious potted cactus shows up on their doorstep with nothing more than a note with her name on it, Clarke watches Raven squeal and run to put it in her room with a small smile on her face.)

 

“With the amount of times he’s texted you tonight, are you sure he’s not trying to get into your pants instead?” Bellamy murmurs as Clarke types out a response to something Roan had sent her earlier. She pauses, glancing up at him.

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind,” he says, turning back to his notes with a frown. Clarke puts her phone down and scoots forward so she’s practically on his couch cushion.

 

“Bellamy, he’s not that bad. I know you aren’t his biggest fan but I think that’s just because you don’t know him that well.”

 

“And you do?”

 

Clarke pauses. In the past week or so, she _has_ gotten to know Roan a bit. He’s snarky and has a dry sense of humor, but she can tell that underneath his aloof façade he can be quite genuine.

 

“I’m starting to,” she answers honestly. Bellamy scoffs.

 

Her phone chooses that moment to go off again, Roan’s contact information filling the screen as her ringtone- “Born This Way” by Lady Gaga- pierces the tense atmosphere of the room. For all the texting they’ve been doing, Roan has never called her before, and she immediately senses that something is wrong.

 

She answers quickly, ignoring Bellamy’s scowl.

 

“Hello?”

 

“It’s Raven,” he says, his voice tight. “She’s in the infirmary.”

 

The rest of the conversation is a blur. All Clarke remembers is looking up at Bellamy who, taking one look at her expression, jumps to his feet and grabs his car keys. The drive to the infirmary on the other side of campus is only a few minutes, but it feels like years as she gnaws on her thumbnail in the passenger seat. They sprint from the parking lot and burst through the front doors, panting.

 

“Raven Reyes, where is she?”

 

“Room 112,” says one nurse, approaching them with a knowing smile. “She’s alright, don’t worry. I’m assuming you’re Bellamy and Clarke?”

 

“What gave it away?” Bellamy asks drily as he leads them down the hall. His calm demeanor has assuaged their concerns slightly, but they are both still on edge.

 

“Raven told me I could expect two people barging in here looking like they’re ready to save the world,” he says, stopping outside of a door marked 112. “The visiting hours end at 10 p.m.”

 

Clarke glances down at her father’s watch. It’s nearly 8:30. “Thank you, we won’t overstay” she tells the nurse, who nods and opens the door.

 

Raven is propped up on the bed, her bad leg elevated and a white bandage strapped across her forehead. At the sound of the door opening, she looks over at them and smirks.

 

“What did I tell you, Jackson?”

 

The nurse chuckles. “I knew them right away.”

 

“God, you two are predictable. I was going to call you myself, but fucking Kingsley beat me to it.”

 

Clarke climbs up onto the mattress with her, careful to avoid jostling her leg, and Bellamy takes the seat next to the bed.

 

“What happened?” he asks softly.

 

Raven sighs. “I was finishing up a project in the Engineering building. You know how I sometimes take my brace off if I’m sitting for a while? Well, I had left it on a stool nearby, only when I stood up and went to grab it, it was gone.”

 

“Someone took it?” Bellamy probes.

 

“There were a few other people in the lab with me, but I was pretty focused on my project and not them. Someone could have easily swiped it, though I don’t know who the fuck would want to.”

 

“People are assholes,” Clarke says. “How did you hurt your head?”

 

“I lost my balance, knocked over a tray of tools, and hit my head on the edge of a countertop on the way down. Kingsley showed up right after my fall, luckily enough. I had let it slip that I would be there until dark and he said he came to walk me home. Instead he ended up taking me here.” 

 

Clarke kisses Raven’s temple and winds her arms around her friend’s bony shoulders. “I’ll kill whoever did it.”

 

“Seriously, Rae,” Bellamy says, his jaw tight, “you can hack the security cameras, right? Find out who did it?”

 

“Of course I can,” Raven says confidently, leaning back into Clarke’s embrace. “But I-”

 

At that moment, the door swings open again, and Roan strides into the room. His hair falls loosely around his face, his expression hard and determined. In his hand is Raven’s brace, which he places gently at the foot of her bed.

 

His knuckles are bruised and bloody.

 

Raven stares at him in shock. “Roan, I…” He meets her gaze levelly, his expression unchanging. Then her posture relaxes, and her countenance softens. “ _Thank you_.”

 

He nods once. “Do you want a name?”

 

“No,” Raven says, surprising them all. “It’s done.”

 

“You’re a bigger person than I am,” Roan says, and Clarke detects a hint of a smirk.

 

“Damn right,” Raven fires back. They exchange one more intense look before Roan abruptly turns on his heel and walks out. A few seconds later, Clarke’s phone beeps. She discreetly checks the message, and unsurprisingly it’s from Roan, but it’s only two words.

_Cage Wallace_.

 

 

* * *

 

“Do you think he’d be good in bed?” Raven asks randomly the next afternoon. She’s sprawled across the couch in their living room, her bad leg propped up on pillows and a sleeve of Oreos on her stomach. Judging by the dopey smile on her face, Clarke assumes the latest round of painkillers must be kicking in.

 

“Who?” Clarke asks good-naturedly, pulling up an episode of _Shameless_ on Netflix.

 

“Kingsley.”

 

She chuckles. “I don’t know, probably.”

 

“I could use a good fuck,” Raven sighs. “I haven’t had one since Bellamy.”

 

Clarke freezes, her blood running cold. “What?”

 

“I know, isn’t that sad? It’s been like…three years.”

 

“No, Raven,” Clarke turns and faces her friend, grabbing her wrist. “You had sex with Bellamy?”

 

Raven giggles, swiping weakly at Clarke’s arm. “Come on, Clarkey, you know this. Remember? After Finn?”

 

Finn Collins had been in Clarke’s Freshman Seminar group, and had taken to flirting with her immediately. They hooked up right after Thanksgiving break, and spend the remainder of the semester together. They texted constantly over the winter break, and Clarke was so excited to see him at the start of the spring semester. As fate would have it, Raven was Finn’s long-time girlfriend from home, and she had decided to surprise him by transferring to their school that spring.

 

Long story short, both girls kicked him to the curb and claimed each other, and Finn left school at the end of freshman year.

 

“Oh shit,” Raven says, sobering up at Clarke’s expression. “You really didn’t know.”

 

Clarke shakes her head mutely.

 

“Clarke, it didn’t mean anything. I was pissed, he was there, and we just…did it. It never happened again, I swear.”

 

“It’s fine, Rae,” Clarke says, managing a small smile. “Really.”

 

Raven grabs her hands tightly. “I thought you knew, Clarke. I thought Bellamy would have told you a long time ago.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Are you mad at me?”

 

“No, shh,” Clarke says soothingly, snuggling into the couch next to her. “We’re fine, I promise. Let’s just watch Fiona Gallagher save the day, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she says, her eyelids starting to droop. She glances towards the screen. “Hey, is it weird that Jody kind of really looks like Roan?”

 

Raven passes out soon after that, and Clarke takes her leave.

 

The front door is open, so Clarke lets herself into Bellamy’s house with little fanfare. Miller is playing video games in the living room, glancing over her shoulder at her and muttering, “In his room,” before turning back to Mario Kart. Clarke takes the stairs two at a time, barging into his room without knocking.

 

“You had sex with Raven?”

 

Bellamy is sprawled across his bed, his glasses slipping down his nose as he scans the page of _The Iliad_. He startles at her words, tossing the book to the side and sitting up.

 

“What? Clarke, what are you-”

 

“You and Raven. Sex. Freshman year.” Clarke crosses her arms over her chest and plants her feet.

 

“Yes, I remember,” Bellamy says slowly, standing up. “What about it?”

 

“You…You just…I can’t believe it! You-”

 

“Was I not _allowed_?” Bellamy says, defensive. “What is the problem here, Clarke?”

 

“Why didn’t you _tell me_?” she cries, exasperated.

 

“It never came up!”

 

“It never came up?” Clarke crosses the room and pokes him hard in the chest. “What the fuck? You are my _best friend_ , Bellamy! We tell each other everything. Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”

 

“Well maybe because it wasn’t your fucking business,” he snaps, stepping away from her. Clarke drops her hand in shock. “And it still isn’t. So why are you really yelling at me, huh? Because I didn’t yell at you when you fucked Lexa while her and her girlfriend were on a break.”

 

“Fuck you,” Clarke says, her voice trembling. The venom in his voice makes her feel like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her and shoved her outside into a blizzard. He hasn’t spoken to her with a tone like that since their high school debate days.

 

“I _told you_ about that. I told you about that because I felt bad about it, and you’re my best friend, and that’s what best friends do. They tell each other everything, because they want to be there for each other for the good and the bad. But I guess you don’t see it like that.”

 

“Are you trying to say that we’re not best friends because I didn’t tell you about one thing that happened three years ago?” Bellamy says incredulously. “That’s low, Clarke.”

 

She starts to feel sick. This isn’t what she came over here for, this isn’t how she imagined their conversation going. She had forgotten how mean their fights could get.

 

“You know what? I’m not doing this.” She turns to leave, blinking away the tears burning behind her eyelids.

 

“Oh, what a surprise, Clarke Griffin running away from her problems instead of facing them,” he scoffs as she slams the door behind her. She storms down the stairs, avoiding looking at Miller who is staring at her in shock. She doesn’t allow the tears to fall until she is in her own room, her face shoved into one of the pillows on her bed. They don’t stop for hours.

  

* * *

 

 

Bellamy doesn’t call. Or text. Or even send a fucking Snapchat. Clarke ditches their shared Psychology class for fear of what she’d do when she sees him, if he’d even show up. There is radio silence between them for two whole days, the longest they had ever gone without some type of communication since they started college.

 

Raven decides her leg feels better after only a day of rest, and so to celebrate she decides to throw a party at their house. She sends out a group chat to their normal gang, and Clarke’s heart leaps when she sees that Bellamy has replied with a thumbs-up emoji. But by the time Raven’s party is underway the next night, there’s still no sign of him. Clarke meanders around her living room, making casual conversation and trying not to let his absence get to her.

 

She catches Raven scurrying out of the kitchen with a peculiar expression. Clarke grabs her arm.

 

“You alright?”

 

“It’s fucking Kingsley,” Raven spits. There’s a fire behind her eyes that usually means she is royally pissed, but the color in her cheeks suggest another emotion. “I swear, I’m going to light him on fire one of these days.”

 

“What did he do?” Clarke asks, amused.

 

“All I wanted was some ice for my drink and he was just _there_ , telling me about its many erotic purposes. He used the phrase _‘ice dildo’_ , Clarke.”

 

She can’t help but chuckle at that. “Temperature play. He knows your kinks.”

 

Raven fixes her with a glare. “I swear to God, Clarke…”

 

“I’ll keep him out of your hair for a bit,” she assures her friend. “Gina just got here. Go say hi.”

 

Raven sighs, relieved. If Clarke didn’t know any better, she would kick Roan’s ass herself. But she knows Raven, and she knows that if he truly made her uncomfortable, his fancy car would probably ‘accidentally’ combust the next time he got behind the wheel. After the incident with her brace, Clarke knows that Raven has warmed up to him a bit. Her antagonism now is just part of the game.

 

But Clarke will be damned if she tells him that.

 

She finds him in the kitchen, casually leaning against the fridge and picking at some chips and salsa.

 

“Grab me a beer?” she asks as she enters. He opens the door of the fridge and she grabs a tortilla chip, loading it up with salsa before shoving it into her mouth.

 

“Bellamy isn’t here,” Roan observes, handing her the beer she asked for. She takes two big gulps. “He didn’t get an invite?”

 

She rolls her eyes, her bad mood instantly returning. “He knows he was invited tonight. He chose not to come.”

 

“I saw him yesterday; he seemed to be in a worse mood than usual. Lover’s quarrel?”

 

“Fuck off,” Clarke says, with no real heat behind it. She tips the beer back again.

 

“I’m serious, Clarke.” He takes a step forward and places a hand on her arm. “Did he do something?”

 

“No. Well, _yes_ , but not to me.”

 

“To who?”

 

“It’s nothing bad, it’s just- It’s stupid, really. I shouldn’t even-”

 

“ _Clarke_.”

 

“Bellamy and Raven had sex,” Clarke blurts out. Roan stares at her impassively as she takes another swig.

 

“Recently?”

 

“Freshman year, after the whole shitshow with Finn. Almost _four years_ , and he didn’t tell me.”

 

Roan takes her now empty bottle and places it by the edge of the sink. He doesn’t offer her another one. “You’re jealous.”

 

Clarke scoffs. “ _No_. Definitely not. Why would I be? We’re not…we’re not _together_ , not like that. It’s just that I…”

 

“Are you looking to get back at him?”

 

Clarke’s eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m offering to fuck you, if you’re interested. I can let it slip to your _not-boyfriend_ and you know that will drive him crazy.” He takes a step closer. “Then he’ll know how it feels.”

 

“You know, you could just _say_ you fucked me. We don’t actually have to do anything,” Clarke counters.

 

Roan shrugs. “Sure. But you are a beautiful woman, Clarke, and I think we could have some fun together. For honesty’s sake, of course.”

 

“For honesty’s sake,” Clarke repeats, eyeing him dubiously.

 

Roan smirks. “I’m not a fan of lying.”

 

Her eyes rake over him for a moment. He is undeniably attractive. Tall, strong, nice hair, a bit mean-looking. Pretty much exactly her type, to be honest. She trusts him to make it good, and she knows he’s been mooning over Raven so there will be no awkward feelings to deal with. It seems like a pretty sweet deal all around.

 

Making her decision, Clarke steps forward and on to her tiptoes, cupping the back of Roan’s neck and bringing his mouth down to hers.

 

One of his hands finds her waist immediately, squeezing hard and pulling her flush against him. The other fits itself at the base of her neck, his fingers winding themselves into strands of her hair. He gives her hair a slight tug when she bites at his lower lip, and the sting sends a jolt of heat straight to her clit.

 

“Let’s go,” she says breathlessly, stepping back and grabbing his hand. He allows her to drag him upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind them and shoving him into the chair by her desk.

 

Clarke rips off her loose tank top and straddles him, slanting her mouth over his as he palms at her tits. She pulls his hair out of that stupid half-ponytail and runs her fingers through it as he unclasps her bra and tosses it across the room.

 

“I want to suck your cock,” she breathes when he lowers his head to her breasts and takes on of her nipples into his mouth, biting down gently. He grunts in acknowledgement but spends a bit more time playing with her tits before she gets impatient and slides off his lap, dropping to her knees.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ yeah,” Roan groans, his head dropping back when she finally pulls his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs and wraps her mouth around the head of his cock.

 

He’s thick, decently long, with a slight curve to his left. He grabs the hair at the nape of her neck and tugs lightly so that the head bulges against her cheek, and he taps the protrusion with his free hand. Clarke moans around him, and his thighs twitch.

 

“That’s it,” he says roughly when she deepthroats him, gazing up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Fuck, Clarke. Let me taste you, too.”

 

She releases him from her mouth with a _pop_ and a gasping breath. “No,” she says, shaking her head and getting to her feet. “No, just fuck me.”

 

She sheds her leggings and underwear while he divests himself of his shirt and kicks off his pants. Roan moves to stand up, but she places a hand on his chest and straddles him again. Reaching behind him into her desk drawer, she hands him a condom. Once he’s got it on she sinks down on his cock, moaning as he stretches her out.

 

Clarke throws her head back, letting him mouth at her tits again as she rides him, her cunt clenching around him every time he thrusts up and hits her G-spot. When she raises her head up again, her eyes catch the movement of something outside her window.

 

“Shit,” she breathes as she makes eye contact with Bellamy, standing still as a statue in the middle of his room. Roan mistakes her curse of shock for one of pleasure, and so he slips his arms under her calves and lifts her off his lap so he can fuck her deeper.

 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Clarke groans, her eyes rolling back. That one was definitely from pleasure.

 

Bellamy takes a step closer to his own window, his gaze never leaving hers as Roan fucks her. Clarke makes it a point to arch her back in a way that she knows makes her tits look fantastic, and she sees Bellamy lick his lips in response.

 

“Get up,” Roan says suddenly, gruffly, and for a second she thinks he’s caught on. But he just spins her around so that she’s kneeling on the chair, facing the window, and he lines himself up behind her. Clarke grips the back of the chair as he thrusts into her, her mouth open in a silent scream.

 

“Rub my clit for me,” she begs, and he complies. With his free hand, he delivers a stinging smack to her ass, making her yelp. He freezes, but then she wiggles back against him. “ _Again_.”

 

Growling, Roan slaps her ass again, feeling her pussy quiver around him. “You are exquisite, Clarke,” he grunts once her ass cheeks are red and burning hot to the touch. Clarke can feel her orgasm rapidly approaching, and she figures he does as well, because he fists his hands in her hair again and tips her head back so he can suckle at her throat.

 

“I want you to come now,” Roan tells her, biting down at her pulse point. “Come now as he watches us.”

 

Clarke shatters, her body writhing against Roan’s firm grip, listening to him groan as he releases as well. She screams as the waves of pleasure wash over her, but she keeps her eyes open the whole time.

 

Bellamy never looks away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stick with me. I have a plan, I promise.
> 
> Also, if you want to talk season 4, I'm on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you @[missemarissa](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9648227/chapters/missemarissa.tumblr.com) for your help with...literally everything. You're my rock. 

* * *

 

A wave of guilt, heavy and consuming, washes over Clarke the second she opens her eyes.

 

 _What the fuck_ , she thinks, burrowing her face into the pillow and groaning. _I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up._

 

“Clarke?” Harper knocks on her door gently. “Are you up yet?”

 

She rolls over onto her back. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m making hangover pancakes.”

 

“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

 

Clarke didn’t drink nearly enough to induce a hangover, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling like boiled garbage. She drags herself out of bed and down the stairs, staring fixedly at her plate as she forces forkfuls of pancakes into her mouth.

 

“Mother of God,” Raven moans as she slumps into the kitchen and throws herself into a seat. “What a night. Where’d you disappear to, Clarke?”

 

“I, uh, I fucked Roan.”

 

The room is silent. Harper breaks it, laughing nervously and glancing between Clarke, pushing one piece of pancake around in the puddle of syrup on her plate, and Raven, who is looking at Clarke like she sprouted a second head.

 

“You what?”

 

Clarke looks up. “I had sex with Roan last night.”

 

Harper turns off the stove and grabs her own plate of pancakes. “I’m just gonna… go eat in my room,” she murmurs, slipping out of the kitchen.

 

Raven stares Clarke down, her expression unreadable. “You’re serious.”

 

“Yes.” She scrubs a hand over her face, ashamed. “Raven, I am… so sorry.”

 

“What’s there to be sorry for?” Raven stands up abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping the floor. “It’s not like we’re together or anything.” She stomps over to the stove and grabs two pancakes off the plate.

 

“But you might as well be,” Clarke continues, turning around in her seat. “It was wrong of me to do it.”

 

“Just leave it,” Raven says tightly. “We’re even now, okay? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

 

“It’s not-” Clarke falters. It is what she wanted, when it boils down to it. She had been angry, despite her earlier claims, and she had wanted to get even.

 

“It _is_ what you wanted, isn’t it?” Raven snaps, spinning around and smacking her hand on the countertop. “You’re too immature to handle me sleeping with Bellamy _years ago_ so you had to go fuck the one guy I’m into? Are you that petty that you can’t let me have _one thing_ to myself?”

 

Clarke’s face is on fire, her mouth dry. She can barely hear Raven’s words over the thundering of her heart in her throat. “I’m sorry, Raven. I…” She wipes at her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I love you. You’re one of my best friends and I want to say that I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did. I wanted you to feel how I felt when you told me you slept with Bellamy, and I chose Roan because he is yours and Bellamy…is m-mine.”

 

Raven is silent, her lips set in a frown and her eyes narrowed threateningly.

 

“This was your idea?” she finally asks.

 

Clarke bites her lip. She could lie, save Roan’s face a bit and protect the last bit of Raven’s feelings that weren’t hurt. But she knows that the truth always comes out.

 

“He offered,” she says softly, and her heart shatters when Raven lets out a choked sob. Clarke jumps to her feet, immediately wrapping her arms around her friend.

 

“He offered, no strings attached. It wasn’t about you for him, Raven. He was doing it for me. Because he knew Bellamy would find out.”

 

“Did he?” Raven gulps. Clarke can’t stop the rush of heat she feels at the thought of Bellamy watching them.

 

“Yes.”

 

“God, Clarke,” Raven scoffs, but she leans into her embrace. “This is so fucked up.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So is Roan.”

 

“We knew that already.”

 

Raven manages a weak laugh at that, and Clarke presses a kiss to her temple. The brunette snuggles into her touch, letting out a deep sigh.

 

“We’ll be okay, Griffin,” she says. “I don’t forgive you yet- I’m going to make you sweat a bit first- but I will.”

 

Clarke squeezes her closer. “Let me suffer as long as you want. I deserve it.”

 

“Yeah, you do.” They stand there, holding each other in the kitchen as the pancakes grow cold and the clock above the fridge ticks slowly. Then Raven straightens up, shoving her away. “Go on. You’re not done yet.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Clarke says.

 

Raven rolls her eyes. “Go talk to Bellamy. Put all this stupid pining to rest.”

 

* * *

“If you’re going to yell or fuck, let me know so I can leave now,” Miller says, his voice muffled from where he is face-down on the couch. “I’m too hungover to deal with this.”

 

“If it all goes well, there might be both,” Clarke murmurs, taking the stairs two at a time. Miller groans and rolls himself onto the floor.

 

Bellamy’s door is slightly ajar, and she hesitates before entering. Timidly, she knocks twice.

 

“Yeah,” he grunts from inside. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she pushes open the door.

 

“Hi.”

 

Bellamy is sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees. He looks up at her slowly.

 

“I don’t know what to say to you right now, Clarke.”

 

She crosses the room, sitting next to him on the bed. “You don’t have to say anything. You just have to listen, and then if you want me to leave, I’ll go.”

 

He swallows thickly. “Alright.”

 

“I love you and I’m sorry.”

 

Bellamy stops breathing. His shoulders tense, and Clarke waits with bated breath as he slowly turns to look at her. He opens his mouth, and before he can say anything she speaks again.

 

“I love you, and not just as my best friend. I’m _in_ love with you, Bellamy, and I think I have been for a long time. And I’m sorry because I know that I hurt you.”

 

Tentative, she reaches for his hand, and he grips it tightly.

 

“When I found out you slept with Raven, I was… _so upset_. Because you’re mine. You’re mine, and I know how fucked up that is because you’re _not_ , not really. You’re your own person and I have no right to lay any type of claim on you or be upset with you for sleeping with whoever you want, especially if it was years ago. But regardless of how irrational it is, I was still hurt, and I wanted to hurt you, too. So I fucked Roan, hoping that you would find out and maybe then you’d know how I was feeling.”

 

“Well, you succeeded,” Bellamy scoffs.

 

Clarke laughs weakly. “Doesn’t feel like success now.”

 

“Does Raven know?”

 

She nods. “I’m going to be groveling for a while. And she took back the body pillow she leant me.”

 

“Sounds like adequate penance.” Bellamy takes a deep breath, turning until he’s facing her, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “So, back to the part where you said you’re in love with me.”

 

Clarke bites her lip, her face heating up. “What about that part?”

 

“I’m in love with you, too.”

 

“Yeah?” She sits up straighter, her heart skipping a beat. “That’s, uh, that’s good.”

 

Bellamy laughs, and in that moment it’s the best thing Clarke has ever heard. “So, what now?”

 

“What do you want to do now?”

 

“Honestly?” Bellamy licks his lips. “I really want to kiss you right now. But I think we should talk a bit more, too.”

 

“We can kiss and then talk,” Clarke offers. He considers this for a second, waiting just long enough for Clarke to playfully shove his shoulder. “Come on, Bell.”

 

“Alright, alright, you wore me down,” he laughs, crowding over her until she’s flat on her back, her head resting on his pile of pillows. “Gonna be such a hardship, isn’t it? Being your boyfriend.”

 

The word sends a thrill up Clarke’s spine. She locks her fingers together behind his neck, dragging him down to press their lips together, too eager to get a taste of him before she can respond.

 

His lips are soft and insistent on hers, exactly how she expected them to be. He kisses her slowly, one hand gently rubbing her side and the other resting lightly on the crown of her head, his thumb tenderly tracing her hairline. Warmth spreads all over Clarke’s body, from her head to her toes, and she parts her mouth with a sigh when his tongue teasingly traces her lower lip.

 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she finally says when they break apart. “Being your girlfriend.”

 

Bellamy’s hand tightens on her hip, his pupils blown wide and lips swollen. “We, uh, we should talk now. Before…”

 

“Before we have sex,” Clarke finishes, nodding. “I think so, too. Can we stay like this, though?”

 

He smiles fondly at her, dropping another kiss to her lips before grabbing a blanket from the foot of his bed and tugging it around them. She cuddles into his side, resting her head on his chest and relishing in the feeling of his arms wound tight around her.

 

“Alright,” he murmurs against her hair. “Let’s talk.”

* * *

The rest of the semester seems to fly by, and before they know it the field trip day is upon them. They meet at Union Station in DC at 7 a.m., taking the 7:25 train into Penn Station in Manhattan.

 

“Too early,” Jasper mumbles, nuzzling into Maya once there are all settled in their seats. She rolls her eyes and offers him a sip of her coffee.

 

Miller answers with a snore, his face pressed against the window.

 

“I’m so glad you guys are excited for this,” Clarke huffs. Bellamy presses a kiss to her temple.

 

“It’s a miracle they’re even awake,” he murmurs. “But if they aren’t weeping tears of joy by the time we arrive at Penn Station, I’ll kick their asses myself.”

 

“My hero.”

 

The train starts to move and everyone settles into their seats. Bellamy digs into his bag and pulls out a cardboard to-go box. Clarke’s head perks up.

 

“Is that…?”

 

He opens it to reveal two breakfast sandwiches, still piping hot, from _Grounder’s_ , their favorite greasy deli near campus.

 

“You’re welcome,” Bellamy laughs as Clarke grabs one, ripping into it with fervor and moaning when the hot cheese hits her taste buds.

 

“God, I love you,” she says with her mouth full. He takes a bite of his own, flicking at her nose with his thumb.

 

“Love you, too.”

 

Like the obnoxious tourists they are, their group tackles Times Square with flare and without shame. Jasper insists on taking a picture with every character lining the street corners, from Elmo to Spiderman. Raven chases down the Naked Cowboy, with Roan following close behind with an amused smile. They make good on their plans to take a group selfie flipping off Trump tower, much to the amusement of other passerby, before ending up at the Stonewall Inn, where they all get fucking plastered.

 

Clarke makes sure they all sober up by the time they’re supposed to see _Hamilton_ , because they’re not complete assholes, but the slight buzz of alcohol in their bodies makes the show more epic than it already is.

 

“This was a good day,” Clarke murmurs on the train ride home. Her head rests on Bellamy’s shoulder, a pair of headphones split between them while they listen to the _Hamilton_ soundtrack.

 

“You pulled it off,” he says against her hairline.

 

“ _We_ did.”

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you-” He trails off when his eyes catch on something a few rows up. He drops his voice, whispering excitedly. “ _Clarke, check it out.”_

 

She follows his finger until her gaze lands on the seats to the left a few rows forward. Roan is reclining against the window, his legs spread over both seats. Raven is on his lap, her hands threaded through his hair and her lips hungry on his.

 

“Well, I’m glad they finally worked their shit out,” Clarke says with a laugh. It had been a few tense weeks between her, Raven, and Roan as they all slowly worked through their issues. Raven and Roan had ended up reverting back to square one, but they’ve slowly been building back their trust and reforming their relationship.

 

“It’s pretty hot,” Bellamy muses. Clarke turns, biting down on the meat of his shoulder that is exposed by the neckline of his shirt.

 

“Fuck yeah, it is,” she says, running her hand up his thigh. “Few hours ‘til we get home.”

 

He groans when her hand grips the bulge in his jeans. “Can’t wait.”

* * *

Three hours later sees them on Bellamy’s bed, partially clothed with their limbs entangled. Clarke has her shirt on but her pants have been discarded, and Bellamy has snuck his hand beneath the fabric of her underwear to rub at her clit while he sucks on her neck. His situation is the opposite- he is without a shirt but still wearing his pants, although Clarke has managed to pull them halfway down his thighs so she can lazily stroke his cock while she scrapes her nails over the back of his neck.

 

“ _Bell_ ,” she whines when he nips at her pulse point. “Bell, I want to suck your cock.”

 

His hard length twitches in her hand, and he grunts in response, still suckling at her neck.

 

“ _Bellamy_.”

 

“I’m not stopping you,” he mumbles. He removes the pressure from her clit to swipe at the wetness that has accumulated at her opening, coating his fingers with it before slipping one digit inside her cunt.

 

“Yes, you are,” Clarke moans. He has a habit of doing this, of being so focused on her pleasure that he rarely lets her reciprocate. She adores giving him head, and once she gets started it’s not like he _complains_ , but it’s always a bit difficult to get him to focus on, well… _him_. 

 

But this time, he surprises her.

 

“Alright,” he says, slipping one arm around her waist and flipping them over in one fluid movement. His back is now against the mattress, Clarke pressed snug against his chest. “Go ahead, suck my cock, beautiful.”

 

She lets out a soft, delighted squeak and shimmies off him to kneel at the bottom of the bed. Bellamy helps her tug his pants and underwear off the rest of the way and then spreads his legs so she can fit between them.

 

“Wait,” he says gruffly, just has her soft hand wraps around the base of his dick. Clarke pouts comically.

 

“What?”

 

“Will you take your shirt off?” Bellamy asks, bracing himself on his elbow and leaning forward to cup her cheek. “Let me see those pretty tits, yeah?”

 

Unable to stop herself, she presses a wet kiss to the head of his dick first, making him hiss. Then she pulls back, yanking her top off and tossing it to the side of the room, unclasping her bra in one fluid motion.

 

“So beautiful,” Bellamy mutters, his eyes raking over her chest. Clarke smirks, purposely dragging her tits over his thick, muscled thighs as she reaches for his cock again. The coarse hairs on his leg deliciously abrade her beaded nipples, sending bolts of heat right to her center.

 

“That’s it,” he groans as she flattens her tongue and licks a broad stripe from base to tip. He threads the fingers of his right hand through her hair and gathers it at the base of her neck, his thumb lightly stroking the skin behind her ear as she sucks on the tip. She runs her tongue over his frenulum, relishing in the way his thighs twitch and his grip on her hair tightens.

 

“So good, babe. Fuck. Love it when you suck my cock.”

 

She lets saliva pool in her mouth as she hollows out her cheeks and takes him deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock brushes the back of her throat. Bellamy practically melts into the sheets, his grip tightening on her hair as he arches up into her mouth. She chokes a bit, tears streaming down her cheeks. The tightening of her throat makes Bellamy cry out, and soon he’s pushing her back. She breathes in with a strangled gasp, wiping at her eyes with a satisfied smile.

 

“Christ, Clarke,” Bellamy groans, grabbing her under her arms and pulling her up onto his chest. “You’re too good, babe. Can’t take it.”

 

She adjusts herself so she is straddling his lap, grinding her hot center on his cock. She is still wearing her underwear, and Bellamy growls at the feeling of the drenched fabric.

 

“Will you fuck me now?” Clarke asks as he dips his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He suckles hard, just barely grazing her areola with his teeth. “Shit, Bell, _please_.”

 

“You don’t want me to eat you out first?” he asks, resting his chin on the swell of her breasts and looking up at her through his eyelashes.

 

“After. Right now, I just need your cock.” Her cunt had been clenching around nothing the entire time she had been sucking her off, and she’s nearly desperate with want.

 

“Is that right?” he teases, slipping his fingers under the fabric of her underwear and curling two of them inside her. “You’re fucking soaked for me, babe. You want my cock inside this tight little cunt?”

 

“God, yes,” Clarke pants. Bellamy shoves her panties aside and drag the head of his cock over her cunt. He grips her hips tightly as she takes hold of the base of his cock, guiding him inside her slowly. She had gotten an IUD a month ago, and forgoing condoms and birth control had been one of the best decisions they have made.

 

Now, if you asked Bellamy which sex position was his favorite, he’d be hard-pressed for an answer. They all have their perks, but he tends to favor those where he can see his partner’s face. Watching Clarke as they fuck is probably more than half of the experience for him. She drives him crazy with how gorgeous she is, and right now is no exception.

 

“You feel so good,” she moans as she rocks her hips against his. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me all day.”

 

“I wanted to make you come on the train,” Bellamy confesses, thrusting up into her hard and making her gasp. “Everyone was passed out and we were tucked into the corner. I would have made you come all over my fingers and no one would have known.” He pauses, and then:

 

“I bet Roan made Raven come.”

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

He feels her cunt tighten around his cock at his words. Her eyes are closed, her mouth half-open and her nails digging into his chest. She’s getting lower and lower, her heavy breasts now dragging along his chest, unable to keep herself upright as he fucks up into her. He knows that she’s getting close.

 

“You like that, babe? You think that’s hot?”

 

“ _Fuck, yes_.”

 

“Look at me. Give me your eyes, Clarke.” Her eyes snap open, locking on his immediately. Her pupils are blown so wide he can barely see the ring of blue around them.

 

“I’m close,” she pants.

 

His hands grip the flesh of her ass, digging in and guiding her hips as she starts to lose control. “Let me feel it,” he says, and she comes with a soft cry, burying her face in the hollow of his throat.

 

“That’s it, there you go,” he murmurs, slowly rocking her hips back and forth as she comes down. “That’s my girl.”

 

“Oh, Bell,” she pants, pressing her lips to his Adam’s apple. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

 

“I’m not done with you yet.” Bellamy rolls them over and crawls down her body until he’s propped up on his elbows between her thighs. He nips at the underside of her knee. “Spread your cunt for me, beautiful.”

 

Clarke complies with a whimper, spreading her pussy lips with her fingers, revealing her swollen clit. Her cunt is flushed a dark pink, her creamy cum gathered at her opening and dripping down onto her inner thighs and into the crack of her ass. He licks up every drop before returning to her clit, giving it a kiss hello.

 

“Gentle,” she reminds him breathlessly. Bellamy “mhmm’s” his acknowledgement against the sensitive nub. He wraps his lips around it and sucks lightly, the way he knows she likes. She takes it like that for a moment, then winds her fingers into his unruly curls and tugs, guiding his head up and down. He flattens his tongue against her clit and lets her move his head and grind her hips, letting her take what she wants from him.

 

He grinds against the mattress like a fucking teenager until she comes again, her thighs locked around his head and her cum coating his tongue. His cock weeps precum onto the sheets- he briefly thinks about how they’ll have to wash them tomorrow, watching Netflix on her laptop as they cuddle together on the shitty laundromat chairs, trading kisses and stale vending machine pretzels as they wait for their clothes to be done.

 

“Come here,” she urges, pulling him back up and guiding his cock inside of her. Her cunt is still pulsating from her orgasm, so tight and hot and fucking perfect around his throbbing dick. “Fuck me until you come, Bell. Let me feel it.”

 

“ _God_ ,” he gasps, utterly wrecked. His balls draw up after a few thrusts, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. He runs his hand up and down her body, desperate to feel as much of her as he can.

 

Clarke arches up and licks her cum off his chin. “Give it to me,” she whispers, dragging her nails down his back. “Give me your cum, baby.”

 

He does, never one to deny his girl anything. Bellamy captures her lips with his, licking into her mouth as he coats the walls of her cunt with his hot seed. She moans when he pulls out, then laughs at his expression as he stares, transfixed, by the sight of his cum dripping out of her swollen, well-fucked pussy.

 

“I love you, you know,” Clarke says once he’s cleaned them both up with a warm washcloth. She snuggles against his side under the sheets, her nose nuzzling his clavicle. “This was the best day.”

 

Bellamy wraps an arm around her shoulders, dragging his blunt nails along her ribcage. “I love you, too,” he says. Within minutes, they’re both asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY FINALLY FUCKED!!!  
> and the final chapter will be the orgy that you've all (hopefully) been waiting for. thanks for sticking with me for so long! only a week of hiatus left!!
> 
> come find me on tumblr  
> (bilexualclarke)

**Author's Note:**

> The smut will come soon, I promise. (No pun intended.) This is a semi-slow burn.
> 
> Come talk about season 4 with me on tumblr!  
> (bilexualclarke)


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